


The Rule Stands

by Engineerd



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman and Robin (Comics), DCU, DCU (Comics), Grayson (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-09-27 11:46:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10019339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Engineerd/pseuds/Engineerd
Summary: “I know what you’re going to say, Batman,” Damian said, shrugging the hand off his shoulder. “You’re going to tell me that Nightwing is dead, and that people don’t come back from the dead. Well, clearly you are wrong, seeing that you were dead and I was dead and Red Hood was dead and even Superman was once dead-”“My parents are dead,” Father interrupted. “Nightwing’s parents are dead. There have been a few notable exceptions in extenuating circumstances, Robin, but the rule stands. Everyone can die.”ORDamian meets a 10-year-old Dick Grayson, and they become best friends.





	1. Chapter 1

He appeared in front of Damian’s very eyes. One minute, he was alone on a roof near Crime Alley, crouched down and watching his father as Batman interrogate a subject down in the alley below. 

The next minute, he was not alone on the roof. 

Damian started as a figure instantaneously appeared right next to him. He stared as the figure recoiled slightly - they were in the exact same position, mirroring each other, crouched down ready to spring. Crouched in the darkness as they were, Damian could only make out a head of black hair rigidly gelled into place and a domino mask. The rest of him was shrouded with a yellow cape. 

Damian frowned, and leaned towards the other boy. He leaned back infinitesimally, but it allowed Damian a glimpse of bright-green boots peeking out from the edge of the cape.   _ The other boy was wearing a Robin costume.  _

It didn’t look like another one of his mother’s clones - the other boy definitely wasn’t a copy of Damian, and Mother never sent them directly in a Robin suit, anyways. He still wasn’t saying anything, and Damian was just becoming impatient enough to consider breaking the silence when- 

“Robin,” his father’s voice called through the air, emanating from the communicator in the collar in Damian’s hood. The other boy was close enough hear, and although it was hard to tell with the mask, Damian thought he had raised his eyebrows. Otherwise there was no emotion. “I have the information we need,” Batman continued. “Meet me at the Batmobile.”

Damian inclined his head slightly to speak into the comm unit. “In a minute, Batman,” he said cautiously, not taking his eyes off the stranger. “I seem to have found myself some unexpected company.” 

“Report,” Batman demanded immediately. “Are you in any danger?”

Damian tilted his head further at the stranger. “That remains to be seen,” he said. The other boy shook his head - finally, a reaction! “I don’t think so,” Damian continued.

On the other end of the line, Batman sighed. “Robin, please tell me it’s not another cat.” 

The other boy smiled. 

“It’s not a cat,” Damian answered crossly. “And that was one time.” 

“Then what is it?”

The other Robin stood up, and Damian followed his lead, lowering his hood as he did so. The boy’s cape was much shorter when standing, and did nothing to hide the boy’s short sleeves, and bare legs, and  _ oh lord  _ it was the  _ old  _ Robin costume, the one Grayson and Todd had worn back in their days. 

“Maybe you should come see for yourself,” Damian told Batman. 

There was a soft click as the channel disconnected, and Damian knew his father would be coming up the to rooftop shortly. “So, you’re Robin,” the other boy said. His voice sounded more like Grayson than Todd ( _ which made his heart seize a little inside his chest _ ), but Damian hadn’t heard what either of their voices sounded like before puberty, so he couldn’t be sure. 

“I’m Robin,” he confirmed. “And you’re...some sort of Robin.” 

Other Robin nodded. “And you have your Batman, so...maybe this is an alternate universe,” he answered. 

“Maybe,” Damian answered, eyes flicking down again to the  _ scaly green speedo.  _ He didn’t want to look at it, but it was so ugly he couldn’t quite look away. “Aren’t you cold?” he blurted out. 

They were suddenly interrupted by Batman swinging over the side of the roof, and Damian knew he had lost the other boy’s attention. “It’s July,” the other boy answered absently, staring Batman up and down. He then glanced back to Damian.  “It is July, right?”

“July 22nd, 2017,” Damian answered. 

“Yeah, that’s - wait,” the other boy said, “Two thousand  _ and seventeen _ ?”

Damian glanced back at his father. “How did this happen?” Batman asked, voice as gravelly as ever. 

“He just appeared,” Damian supplied. “No noise or sound or air displacement that I could tell.” 

Other Robin frowned. “I’d say the same thing about you,” he said. “I was waiting on the roof, and suddenly you were there, but then I looked around and all the buildings seem slightly different and apparently it's 17 years later.” He made a motion to his gauntlet, where the comm unit used to be stored in the Robin costume. “Batman’s not responding to my calls.” 

“An outdated system?” Damian guessed, looking at his father for confirmation. Batman was frowning, but that wasn’t unusual. “A simple time travel?”

“There’s no such thing as a simple time travel,” Batman growled, but he seemed to agree with Damian’s conclusion, or enough of it, anyways. “Batmobile, both of you. I’ll send the case information to Oracle - maybe she can do something with it tonight.”

“Yes, Batman,” Damian, answered, and walked over to the other Robin - the potential Grayson from the past. The closer he got, the more the first Robin’s stature bewildered him. He objectively knew that Grayson had never been a particularly tall man, but he’d always been taller than Damian, at least. This boy was tiny. “You can follow me,” Damian said to him, doing his best to infuse some kindness into his voice. “The best way down is-”

“I can climb down a three story building,” the boy snapped. He didn’t wait for Damian as he took a running leap and vaulted off the edge of the roof, doing two somersaults in the air before falling from Damian’s line of vision. Damian sprinted over to the edge of the building in time to see the smaller Robin slide down a rain gutter pipe, kicking off the end to do a back handspring and land on his feet. He crossed his arms and stared back up at Damian. “Well, are you coming?” he shouted. 

Damian whipped his head back around and gaped at his father. “Did you see that?” he challenged. “He didn’t - he didn’t even look before he jumped!” 

“If this is a simple time travel case and he is who he appears to be,” Batman answered, “That was always one of his problems.” 

“Tt,” Damian said, pulling out his grappling hook and aiming a lot more self-consciously than usual, swinging down to the ground a few meters from the other boy. The guy Batman was interrogating early was handcuffed on the ground with his mouth covered in duct tape. “The Batmobile’s this way,” Damian answered, and started leading the way on the ground before Gray- the other Robin could get ahead again. He ignored the way the other Robin  _ hmpf _ -ed at him for taking the front seat, and reached for the cautionary blindfold for the stranger to wear on the way back to the Batcave. 

 

* * *

“Are you sure it’s actually Grayson?” Damian asked his father. The lab tests had all come back DNA-match positive, but it was his father’s test that really mattered. “Not a clone? Not an alternate universe? A clone from an alternate universe?”

His father’s cowl was down, which was really all the answer Damian needed. “He answered all the questions exactly as 10-year-old Dick would.” 

“Mind control?” Damian offered. “There has to be something.” 

Father raised his eyebrow. “You don’t trust my judgement?” 

Damian glanced back into the holding room through the one-way glass. “Just look at him,” he said. “He’s so - sulky! That’s not Grayson! The real Grayson has two moods: happy, and asleep.” 

“He had more than two moods, Damian,” Father corrected. “This is what he was like at this age.” 

Damian stoically ignored the use of past tense. “Everyone described him as a child as a ray of sunshine that vomited rainbows and butterflies,” Damian said. “That he brought you out of your dark shell.”

“Dick was an excellent actor,” Father said, “And he had a very good Robin persona. Being responsible for a child was grounding. He did help me very much, Damian.” 

“I don’t trust him,” Damian announced, crossing his arms. 

“That’s fine,” Father answered. “I need you to keep an eye on him for me. I have to go make some calls, see how we can send him back to wherever he came from.” 

“Fantastic,” Damian drawled. “I’m a babysitter.” 

“You’re a guard,” Father corrected. “Just keep him occupied for a little while, alright?”

“Fine,” Damian answered. He watched his father cross back over to the main area, towards the direction of the Bat computer, and then reluctantly let himself into the small Grayson’s holding room. 

Damian was still in full Robin regalia, but the little Grayson had taken off his gloves and his mask. It made the resemblance to adult Grayson easier to identify. “Robin,” Grayson greeted stiffly, folding his hands in front of him on the table. 

Damian took the seat opposite. “Grayson,” he acknowledged. “Batman is going to do some more investigative work into your circumstances. I am here to ask you a few questions.” 

Grayson’s eyes flickered over his uniform, from the R to the cape to the utility belt. “Fine,” he said. 

“You’re ten years old?”

“Yes,” Grayson answered immediately. “How old are you?”

“I’m twelve,” Damian answered, “but I became Robin when I was ten, too. Did Batman tell you who I am?”

“Bruce said your name was Damian,” Grayson challenged. 

“Damian Wayne,” he said. Grayson wrinkled his nose a little, and Damian pretended not to notice the flinch by unbuckling his own gauntlets and sliding them off the join Grayson’s on the table. The mask was loose enough after several hours to be peeled off fairly easily as well. There, now they were even. “Well, I suppose my father trusts you, then.” 

“Of course he does,” Grayson answered. He tilted his head. “If you’re twelve, and it’s 2017, then you’re not even born yet in my time.” 

“I am not.”

“Who’s your mom?” Grayson asked. “Does she fight crime, too?”

Damian thought of his mother’s latest world domination attempt. “Unfortunately not,” he said. “I’m not sure if I can tell you.” 

Grayson nodded, looked down at his hands, and then suddenly wrinkled his nose. “It’s not Catwoman, is it?”

“No!” Damian shouted. “Definitely no!”

“It’s just, earlier, Batman said the thing with the cats-”

“That was one time!” Damian answered hotly. “One time, I left patrol. There was a whole litter of kittens stuck in the tree. It was completely justified. They were making a racket.”   


Grayson snickered. It was juvenile, but it reminded Damian a lot of regular Grayson’s cackle when he had just played a prank on Father, and Damian felt himself relax a little. “Completely justified,” he repeated, just to see child Grayson smile. 

“Can I ask you something?” Grayson asked suddenly, and continued before Damian could point out he just did. “How did you get to be Robin?” 

There was a general rule about dealing with time-travelers that said Don’t Tell Them Too Much About the Future, but he had already told Grayson his name, so this one fact probably wouldn’t hurt. “I always wanted to fight alongside Batman,” Damian said, carefully avoiding most of his own assassin-filled childhood. “You made me Robin, actually. Future you.”

“Really?” small Grayson said. He looked pleased. “Oh, good. I gave you Robin. Of course.” He looked at the door. “Is future me here? Am I allowed to see me? It’s not going to cause space time paradox or something, is it?” 

_ No, actually, future you is- _ Damian forced his face to remain smooth. “You moved away from Gotham when you turned 18,” Damian answered. “You come to visit sometimes, but it might be best to avoid yourself...just in case. Of a paradox.” 

“18?” Grayson echoed. “You must have been just a baby!” 

“It wasn’t because of me,” Damian told him quickly. “From the way you describe it, you just wanted to be your own hero, instead of Batman’s Robin.”

Grayson made a face. “I guess,” he said. “I like being Robin, though.”

“Besides,” Damian corrected, “When you were 18, I was 3. Not a baby.” He wasn’t sure why it was so important to have tiny Grayson understand that Damian didn’t drive him away, even in this imaginary implied scenario where they had grown up in the same household. It’s not like it mattered whether this tiny Grayson liked him or not. 

Then again. This was the only Grayson he could get, apparently.

Small Grayson was studying him. “Am I a good big brother?” he asked cautiously. 

“The best,” Damian answered, far too quickly. 

Grayson smiled widely, his eyes sparkling, and he looked just liked his adult self in that moment when he was proud. 

This was spiraling out of control far faster than Damian was comfortable with. He should not be making friends with this small, fragile child that would shortly be getting sent back to his own time anyways. After all, Damian had been very good friends with adult Grayson, and look what had happened to the both of them.     


“Do you want some snacks?” Damian offered. 

 

* * *

Grayson wasn’t hungry, but he was very excited about the abbreviated tour of the Batcave, despite how little explanation Damian would offer about any changes. “It’s so much bigger now,” Grayson marveled. “And it’s so high tech!” 

Father had noticed, of course, and sent Damian a stare that clearly said  _ What happened to not trusting him? _

Damian jerked his head in Grayson’s direction in response, to where Grayson was loudly admiring with the new and improved Batsuit.  _ One compliment and the sunshine and rainbows are back. Honestly, Father.  _

Father nodded at him and turned back to his work. 

“So if I gave you Robin,” Grayson said later, as they were coming out of the large locker room and into the main training center, “Did I train you at all?” 

Damian smiled, trying not to look wistful. “There was a year I trained with you almost exclusively,” he said. 

“Really?” Grayson asked. He looked around the gym. “I dare you to show me what you learned.” 

“You dare me?” Damian echoed. “What are we, child-” he cut himself off with the embarrassing reminder that yes, actually, they were children. Especially Grayson, who was younger than Damian now. “Fine,” he said instead. “What do you want to do, the balance beam? You always liked that, even though it’s not really practical - or the rings? Those are new. You were so pleased when Father put them in. Of course, they’re only there so you would stop MacGyvering similar contraptions from the grappling hooks.”

“It took Bruce that long to put rings in?” Grayson asked, a little upset. “Those actually would be useful in compat.” 

“Oh, please, in what combat situation would you be dangling from a stationary rope like a marionette - wait. No. I am not having this conversation with you  _ again,  _ Grayson,” Damian snapped. “Look, there’s the stationary trapeze. That’s been here since your day, right?”

Tiny Grayson giggled, looking around. “Yeah, that’s the same,” he said. “Actually, I was thinking we could spar?”

“Spar?” Damian echoed, looking down at Grayson. “It wouldn’t be a fair fight. I’ve been trained to kill since birth, and you’re tiny.” 

Grayson immediately scowled. “I’m not tiny,” he said. “At the circus people were always worried I would grow too big to be an acrobat.” 

“You’re only-” Damian started, but had to stop to roll out of the way of a kick to the chest. “We’re not even in the arena!” he called as Grayson advanced. “You barely have any martial arts training!” 

“Bruce says I’m a natural!” Grayson yelled back. 

Damian stopped back up. “Fine, you asked for it,” he said, and pounced.

Grayson had the audacity to  _ laugh  _ as he dodged away, flipping to the top of the pommel horse only to attack Damian from the high ground a second later. The young boy had enough momentum to knock Damian over, but if Damian had really wanted to he could have pinned Grayson right then and there.  

He didn’t. He rolled back and shoved Grayson off him, flipping up onto the pommel horse instead. “Is that all you’ve got?” he asked. 

Grayson pushed himself back up. “Fine, so you’re heavy,” he taunted.

“I can  _ throw,”  _ Damian corrected. 

“I bet you’re  _ slow,”  _ Grayson said. 

Damian leapt as high off the pommel horse as he could. It really wasn’t high enough for anything more than a somersault, so Damian flung himself sideways instead, getting in an impressive three rotations before landing on all fours and spinning to take his rival’s legs out. It was a move Nightwing employed, usually as a recovery if he was thrown. When Grayson was Batman, he’d made Damian practice aerial recoveries for weeks.      


Young Grayson dodged easily, but he called out, “Not bad for a slowpoke!” as he jumped away, detonating a few smoke bombs behind him. When the smoke cleared, he was far away on top of a pile of weights and grinning. 

When Father came to fetch them 10 minutes later, Grayson had climbed the cable from the trapeze all the way up to the ceiling and Damian had taken a gouge out of the balance beam with his sword. “Robin,” he called out dangerously, planting his hands on his hips. He was glaring at Damian. “What on earth were you doing in here, and why did you feel property damage was necessary?” 

Damian immediately lowered his sword, bristling on the outside. Father was assuming the worst, and it was unfair. So what, he had tried to kill Drake a few years before. He would never hurt  _ a child.  _ “Sorry, Father,” he said stiffly. 

Young Grayson slid back down the cable to the floor, also looking slightly guilty. “Damian and I were just playing,” he said. “Come on, Bruce, lighten up.” 

Damian watched his father look from the two of them, to the hole in the balance beam, and over to the barbell section where there were a lot of fallen 40lb weights. And then back to Damian, one eyebrow raised, slightly.  _ Playing?  _ He silently asked. 

Damian looked down at the floor, well aware that his cheeks were burning.

“You two can clean this up tomorrow,” Father said finally. “Now, it’s bedtime. Change out of your uniforms - Dick, Alfred brought down some pajamas that should fit you, and he’s making up your room for you now. The clothes are in the changing room.”

“Awesome,” little Grayson said easily, taking a step in that direction. “Coming, Damian?”

“In a moment,” Damian answered. Grayson seemed to accept this answer easily, and padded off to leave Damian alone with his father. 

Father beat him to the draw. “What really happened here?” 

“We were just sparring,” Damian said defensively. 

“He’s smaller than you now, Damian. If you hurt him-”   


“I won’t! We were just having fun,” Damian interrupted hotly, and changed the subject before his remark could be examined any more closely. “Which room are you putting him in?”

“I’m putting him in the room he’s always slept in,” Bruce said. “Alfred’s sweeping it now to make sure there’s nothing-”

“Has anyone even been in there since it happened?” Damian asked. 

“No one’s been in Dick’s room since he died, Damian,” Father answered. “Except you.”

Damian scowled down at the ground. 

“Don’t tell Dick what happens to himself,” Father ordered. “And also, don’t go telling anyone that Dick’s still alive, either. It would be cruel of you to start a rumor that spreads false hope.”

“I won’t tell, Father,” Damian promised the floor. “I’m not cruel.”

“I know, Damian,” Father answered. “Go on to bed, then.”

  
Damian turned around without meeting his Father’s eyes, and went to meet small Grayson in the changing room.


	2. Chapter 2

On the third day since small Grayson’s arrival, Father decided to go the Watchtower for the day to chat with some of the Justice League members, since he presumably had not found anything yet that would resolve the spontaneous time-travel incident. 

“You two behave for Alfred, alright?” he told them that morning at breakfast. “No sparring and no climbing any chandeliers, Dick.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” small Grayson challenged. “I’ve never done that!” 

Across from him, Damian snorted loudly into his french toast. Grayson narrowed his eyes and kicked him under the table.    

“And don’t antagonize each other,” Father continued. 

“Ok, Bruce,” Grayson said, and then looked over at Damian and winked. Damian scowled in return. 

“I mean it!” Father continued. “If the manor’s a mess when I get back, no Robin on patrol for a month.”

“We will behave perfectly, Father,” Damian promised solemnly. 

“No messes, we promise,” Grayson said, and then winked at Damian again.

Damian brandished his fork at the other boy. “Do not screw this up for me, Grayson!” 

“Hey, be careful with that thing!” Grayson responded, flinging up his hands as a pathetic shield. “You almost got maple syrup on me!” 

At the head of the table, Father sighed. Pennyworth was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, and Damian could have sworn he was smirking.

 

* * *

 

“So what do you normally do all day in the summer?” Grayson had asked immediately after Father left. 

“I suppose it’s too much to ask for you to entertain yourself?” Damian drawled. 

Adult Grayson would have taken a question like that in stride -  _ why yes, Dami, that is too much to ask, it is your duty as little brother to provide entertainment at all times, and especially when it’s such a nice day out like today -  _ but this 10-year-old Grayson immediately looked unsure. 

“I was just wondering,” little Grayson said. “I just - you don’t have to take me along to anything, it’s fine.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Damian retorted immediately. “I was just teasing. Of course I’m going to give you the tour. You’re the most interesting thing that’s happened to me all month.”

“Oh!” Grayson said, brightening immediately. “A tour, that’d be nice. Sorry, I can never tell whether you’re joking or not.” 

Damian rolled his eyes. “You’ll learn. How long have you been Robin for?”

“About six months,” Grayson answered. “I’ve been with Bruce for almost a year.” 

“So you know most of the manor, then. Come on, I’ll show you the grounds.” Damian started leading the way outside, heading in the general direction of the stables. “So you started as Robin really quickly,” he said conversationally. He already knew Grayson’s general timeline, but putting the other boy at ease couldn’t hurt. 

“Yeah, I guess,” Grayson said. “I was already used to doing a lot of training everyday, since I’ve been performing for the circus ever since I was a baby. The real trick was figuring out where Bruce was going every night.”

“Yes, I suppose so,” Damian mused. “Father is very secretive by nature. Grayson, would you like to meet the Bat-hound or the Bat-cow first?”

“The Bat-who now?”

After petting Bat-cow and playing fetch with Titus for an hour, they wandered back inside. Damian told of how he’d come to acquire both the cow and the dog, and young Grayson had attempted to tell comparable stories about animals he’d known as a child in the circus, such as elephants and tigers and ponies.

“I can’t believe ponies were your most ordinary pet,” Damian said.  

“I know I grew up a bit differently than everyone else,” Grayson sighed, looking down. “But it was home, you know? I really, really liked it.” 

Damian, who did not hold any particularly fond memories of his own childhood home, eyed his wearying-sounding companion cautiously. “It did make you the best acrobat in the world,” he offered. 

Young Grayson smiled at that, but he still looked a little sad. 

“Do you require comforting?” Damian asked. Adult Grayson did not talk about the circus so much, but when he did it didn’t make him sad. Adult Grayson was never sad. 

“I do not require comforting,” Grayson answered. “But thank you.” 

“I’ve got one more pet to show you,” Damian said. “Come on.” 

It should not have felt so rewarding teaching Grayson the exact right way to pet Alfred-the-cat, even when Grayson giggled when the cat started to purr. But it was.

 

* * *

 

Father started to get visibly frustrated after about a week with no progress in the time-travel investigation. Damian had been home with Young Grayson the whole time, and while they’d trained together, he hadn’t officially been out as Robin in all that time either and all his pent-up energy was starting to get on his nerves. 

He and Grayson were back in the training center in the Batcave, working in the actual arena this time. 

“Eugh, no,” Damian corrected. It was very frustrating to watch Grayson struggle with concepts he executed thoughtlessly as an adult. “You have to know when to be flexible and when to plant yourself, Robin. Otherwise you’re just going to get yourself thrown everywhere. It’s already pathetically tempting with your size.”

“If I originally taught you,” Grayson asked, “And now you’re teaching me, does this mean technically I taught myself to fight?” 

Damian scowled and threw Grayson over his shoulder back onto the floor. “No time paradoxes during training.” 

Grayson recovered easily. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly.  

 

* * *

 

The next day it was so freakishly hot that Grayson managed to convince Alfred to take them out for ice cream. 

“We can stay low profile,” Grayson insisted, messing up his hair in an apparent attempt to look more ‘normal’. “Come on, Alfred, please? I could really use some Ike’s Ice right now.” 

“I’m afraid Ike’s Ice Cream Parlor has been closed for some years now, Master Dick,” Alfred answered. 

That explained why Damian had never heard of it, then. Personally, Damian would prefer to stay at home and eat ice cream right here without the crowds of screaming children that would inevitably be waiting for them on a day like today, but young Grayson looked a little crestfallen, so Damian found himself saying, “Your new favorite ice cream place is Dzen’s Garden Market.” 

Grayson turned to him. “Really? I’ve never heard of it.”

“They specialize in soft serve and they also sell fruit and flowers,” Damian elaborated. “I once asked if all the vegetation ever made you nervous and you just laughed.”

“Why would vegetation make me nervous?” Grayson asked. 

Damian shot him a look. 

“Oh, do you mean Poison Ivy? She’s been in Arkham for a while now,” Grayson said. 

Damian sighed and shook his head, remember the days when Grayson was Batman and continually worried about Ivy and Harley Quinn’s little team-up. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Grayson demanded. “Does she escape?” 

“Just be careful,” Damian ordered. “Be on your guard.” 

Grayson’s jaw dropped. “Is she on the loose  _ now?” _

“She’s not that bad, these days,” Damian said. “She hasn’t murdered anyone who hasn’t tried to murder her first in quite some time.”

Grayson turned to Alfred, still in apparent shock. “Are you hearing this?!”

“Indeed, Master Dick,” Alfred answered. “However, Master Damian is correct. She hasn’t posed any threat to the city in recent years, and there are much bigger problems these days.” 

“I’m never going outside again,” Grayson announced. 

“That’s ridiculous,” Damian said. “We’re going to go to your favorite ice cream parlor and you’re going to get your favorite ice cream. Now, you claim your favorite thing on the menu is that blue cotton candy flavor with rainbow sprinkles and gummy bears, but that’s only because you like seeing everyone else make faces at you ingesting something that most closely resembles unicorn vomit. Your real favorite flavor is mint chocolate chip, so we are going to get you that, and you’re going to enjoy it.” He started marching towards the door, making a general follow-me motion with his hand. “Well, come on then.” 

“I’ll go start the car,” Alfred announced, starting ahead of them. 

Grayson was still standing there, and Damian couldn’t read the look on his face. “You don’t have to be scared,” Damian said. “I’m more than capable-”

“I’m not scared,” Grayson interrupted. “Damian, what’s your favorite flavor?” 

“Vanilla,” he answered. 

Grayson made a face. “Vanilla?” he asked. “Just plain vanilla? Have you even tried anything else? Cookie dough ice cream exists!”

“Oh my god, you haven’t changed in twenty years,” Damian said, rolling his eyes. 

“That’s because I’m right.”  

“It’s because you’re an idiot,” Damian corrected. He paused, and then admitted, “I do occasionally like hot fudge, but not on a day like today.” 

“Oh, good, you’re human,” Grayson teased back. He looked pleased.  

There were inevitably crowds of screaming children waiting in line for ice cream, but they got their cones and wandered around following Alfred as he examined the farmer’s market inside. “This is really good,” Grayson commented as he tilted the ice cream so it wouldn’t drip on his hand. “Thanks for the recommendation.” 

Damian shrugged. Adult Grayson had been the person to find the place, of course, but he answered simply, “You’re welcome.” 

“You know, when I first got here and I found out this was the future, I was a little upset that Bruce had just replaced me as, you know,” Grayson commented. Damian’s thoughts flickered briefly to Todd and Drake, of whom this version of Grayson knew nothing about, before he brushed them aside. “Especially since it was my name, and those colors are my family’s colors-”

“They’re what?” Damian interrupted.

“Red, with yellow and green, Grayson family colors,” the other boy continued. “Of course, they were just circus acrobats, but-”

“I never knew that,” Damian said. He looked down at himself, as though he would somehow see the Robin colors through his civilian attire.     

“I just wanted to say thanks, I guess,” Grayson said next to him, focusing heavily on his ice cream cone. “You seem like a really good brother. I thought you were kind of scary at first, but you’re actually really nice.” 

Damian could feel himself flushing, and quickly turned his head in the opposite direction. He wasn’t sure which part of that statement to address first, so he said instead, “You’re quieter than I thought you’d be.”

“Really?” Grayson asked. “What, am I loud when I grow up?”

“Not necessarily loud, but extremely chatty,” Damian said. He called up a memory of Grayson in his mind’s eye. “He was so friendly, god. If something has a pulse, he’d try to make friends with it. And he was so touchy-feely, too, he used to pick me up whenever he could get away with it. Everyone loved him. So, you know, when I thought of him as a kid, I thought you’d be… I don’t know. Louder.”

Grayson was looking at him with really wide eyes. He didn’t say anything, and he’d gone a little pale. 

“Not that there’s anything wrong with the way you are now,” Damian added quickly. “I think I understand you a little better like this. I never understood where you got all the energy before for the constant talking, but-” 

“Why are you using past tense?” Grayson interrupted. 

_ Shit.  _ “What?” Damian asked. 

“Is that why you’re Robin?” Grayson demanded, way too loudly for a public area. He ignored Damian’s frantic shushing and continued, “I’m an idiot. I die, and then you become Robin. I knew your ‘other hero’ story didn’t make sense.” 

“No!” Damian said, and shoved his ice cream cone into Grayson’s hands so he could pull out his phone. “Hold this - look!” He quickly googled Nightwing and shoved the phone into Grayson’s face so he could see the pictures. They were all mostly distance shots of Nightwing jumping from building to building, but still. “That’s you, idiot. You’re not  _ dead.”  _

Damian’s voice broke on the last word, but Grayson was still in the middle of his own panic attack and didn’t notice. He gave Damian back his ice cream cone and scrolled through the search results with one hand. “Bludhaven?” Grayson asked uncertainly. 

“I didn’t mean to use past tense,” Damian said, the words feeling bitter in his mouth. “Your future self used to work in Gotham with me when Father was away, and then you moved back to Bludhaven and - I just miss you. That’s it. That’s all.” 

“Oh,” Grayson said, calming down. “That’s...oh.” He gave Damian his cell phone back. “The future is cool, by the way. I can’t believe everyone has one of those.” 

“The digital age,” Damian responded flatly, and took a huge bite of his ice cream. 

“I overreacted,” Grayson said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t - I know what it’s like to miss people.”

Damian looked over at him sharply. Grayson still looked like he might start trembling at any second, and Damian was reminded that really, to him, his parents had just recently died. 

“You get 7 seconds and you’re not allowed to get ice cream on my clothes,” Damian announced, and then pulled Grayson into a hug. 

Grayson was short enough that Damian could rest his cheek in Grayson’s hair without craning his neck too much. The younger boy immediately relaxed into the embrace. 

“That’s it, time’s up,” Damian said, stepping back. “It’s much too hot for this sort of behavior, anyways.” He smoothed his shirt and commented, “I’ve never been the big brother before, but I am aware that the upkeeping of emotional health is a requirement. In order to fulfill this requirement, you will be allotted two 7-second embraces a week to be used in times of distress. These are my terms.”

Grayson smiled widely. “You’re such a weirdo,” he said, but he sounded way too delighted for the insult to have any real sting. “Is that Damian-speak for you secretly love hugs?” 

“I can kill you with this ice cream cone,” Damian announced. 

Grayson laughed. “Sure you can, Wayne. I’ve got your number.” Then he winked.       

_ I know you’re afraid of dying,  _ Damian thought back. The thought was strangely more depressing than it should have been, so he didn’t say anything out loud. 

 

* * *

 

In full Robin costume, Damian stood next to his father looking through one-way glass once more as they watched Grayson be examined by Zatanna. “I thought you liked the Watchtower,” Father said. 

“The Watchtower as a whole was interesting the first dozen times,” Damian muttered. “The examination rooms, for the fourth time this week, are not.” 

“We have a mystery to solve, Robin,” Father pointed out evenly. 

“I’m not so sure we do, Batman,” Damian replied, trying to keep himself from spitting the words. 

Next to him, Father tensed slightly. “What does that mean?”

“You’ve been working so hard on trying to find a way to send him back,” Damian said. “As the search has yielded nothing so far, I believe a continuation would be a waste of time and energy.” 

“He deserves to go home,” Father said. “I’m sure he misses it and there are people there who miss him.” 

“By that logic,” Damian said, “He should stay here, as there is a home waiting for him and people that would...”

He trailed off as Batman put a hand on his shoulder, and looked up at his Father questioningly. Father had never given any kind of comforting gesture while wearing the Batsuit. “Robin, we cannot keep him,” Batman said quietly. 

“We can to,” Damian argued. “We definitely can to keep him. In fact, maybe he’s supposed to be here. Maybe this is his way of coming back.” 

Father let out an almost inaudible sigh. “Robin, I don’t think we should talk about this here.” 

“I know what you’re going to say, Batman,” Damian said, shrugging the hand off his shoulder. “You’re going to tell me that Nightwing is dead, and that people don’t come back from the dead. Well, clearly you are wrong, seeing that you were dead and I was dead and Red Hood was dead and even Superman was once dead-”

“My parents are dead,” Father interrupted. “Nightwing’s parents are dead. There have been a few notable exceptions in extenuating circumstances, Robin, but the rule stands. Everyone can die.”

Damian’s eyes were burning. “Yes, your parents, and Nightwing’s parents, and Hood’s parents, and even Red Robin’s parents, they all had to die so you could put on the cape. Is that what you’re telling me? Only parents die?”

“Robin,” Father started. 

“I know, I know, you weren’t really dead,” Damian snapped. “And Mother has disowned me, so she might be safe from the curse. However, between you and Mother, the first adult to ever accept me and raise me and love me was Grayson, so he was the parent who had to die for me. So he can’t come back, because that’s the rule, right? That’s the rule?” 

“His death was  _ not  _ your fault, Robin,” Father corrected sharply. “That’s the last thing I want you to think. Sometimes things are just out of our control.”

“If you send him back you’ll just be sending him to his death, Father!” Damian burst out, leaping away. “Can’t you see that? We should keep him here, with us, where he’ll be safe and happy and we can take care of him!”

“He grew up safe and happy the first time around, Robin,” Father growled. 

“Forgive me for not trusting you, as the last time I left you alone with him you let him get himself killed,” Damian snapped. 

_ “Go home, Robin,”  _ Father ground out. “You and I will be having a serious discussion when I get back.” 

“Oh, fantastic!” Damian shrieked sarcastically, throwing his arms in the air. “A discussion so you can tell me how healthy it is to move on with your feelings! How unironic!”     

_ “Go home,”  _ Father repeated. 

Damian stomped off towards the zeta tube as loudly and obnoxiously as he could.

 

* * *

 

For some reason, Drake was waiting for him back in the Batcave. He was wearing an expensive suit and, as always, looked like he hadn’t slept in days.

“Eugh, what are you doing here, Drake?” Damian snapped as he stomped towards him, peeling the mask off his face and stuffing it into his utility belt. “I thought we’d finally sent you off to college.”

“First of all, summer,” Drake answered. “I still work at Wayne Enterprises. Second of all, Bruce called me here? I had to run straight out of a meeting and everything. He said you were having a morality crisis.” 

“Even if I was, the last person I would want to talk to if  _ you,”  _ Damian spat. 

Drake pinched the bridge of his nose, exasperated already. It was a gesture he’d appropriated from Father and Damian  _ hated it.  _ “Look, brat, just tell me and we can get this over with. Who did you kill this time?” 

“Ha-ha,” Damian deadpanned, turning his back on Drake to head towards the changing room and get out of the Robin costume. “What an original and witty joke about my upbringing in the League of Assassins. How creative.” 

To his annoyance, Drake followed him into the changing room and continued to talk while Damian was stripping down. “Well, if you didn’t kill something, then what did you do this time?”

“I didn’t do anything!” Damian exclaimed, pulling a plain t-shirt down over his head. 

“If you didn’t do anything, than why am I here?” Drake asked. 

“I ask myself that every day,” Damian muttered. 

“I have actual work to do!” Drake said, and Damian was tempted to let him walk out, but instead he found himself saying, 

“Have you heard about the time-traveling Robin?”       

“The ten-year-old Dick Grayson?” Tim asked. “Yeah, we’ve all heard. Batgirl and I have been picking up extra patrols to cover for you and Bruce being busy.” 

“I tried to make the argument to Father that we should keep him,” Damian said, looking down at the sneakers he was tying as a way to avoid eye contact.  “Father said no. I may have gotten slightly hysterical.” 

Drake raised his eyebrows. 

_ “Slightly,”  _ Damian repeated. “And now Father’s sent you to deal with me instead of coming himself, which is just typical.” 

Drake let out a large sigh and dropped himself onto the bench Damian was sitting on. “I wasn’t there when Dick died either, you know.” 

“You were alive,” Damian muttered. 

“I was on the other side of the country with the Titans,” Drake continued. “It was a worldwide invasion, aggressive aliens, Darkseid was somewhere. When it all cleared up-”

“I’ve heard the story,” Damian interrupted. “There was a bomb, Grayson stopped his heart to stop it from going off. And it never restarted.” 

“Yeah,” Drake said. “It sucks.” 

There was a long pause after that. 

“Drake?” Damian asked suddenly. 

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry about your parents,” he said. 

Drake looked surprised at the change of subject. “It... was a long time ago. You didn’t know them.” 

“Still,” Damian said. “I’ve heard that story too, and I’m sorry.” 

“That’s the first time you’ve ever said you’re sorry to me in your entire life,” Drake remarked. 

“Not true,” Damian argued. “Grayson made me apologize to you several times, and I’ve worked very hard to avoid you so recently so Father wouldn’t make me do the same.”

Drake snorted in amusement. “Hey, Damian?”

“Yes?”

“Thanks,” Drake said. 

“Do you still miss them?” Damian asked. His voice sounded smaller than he would have liked, but he had to know. 

“I don’t think you ever stop missing them,” Drake said. “But it gets easier.” 

“When Father’s parents died-” Damian said, but then cut himself off. 

“Yeah,” Drake said slowly, like he was just stretching his jaw. “You don’t- you don’t have to be your dad, Damian.” 

Damian stared at the floor. This conversation was already way too personal, but Father was always unwilling to approach any subject that even bordered on emotional, and Pennyworth was nothing but proper and professional even at the worst of times, and Grayson was dead. Drake was the only other person on Earth who had given up everything to be Robin. 

Damian had given up...his childhood. His mother, his life. What was one more thing?

“10-year-old Robin will have to return to his own time,” Damian admitted dully. 

He was almost expecting a hand to ruffle his hair or pat his back, but Drake kept his hands to himself. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m sorry, Damian.”


	3. Chapter 3

Despite his best efforts to hide it, Small Grayson seemed to pick up on some of Damian’s melancholy while they were training again that evening. 

“I’m tired of sparring,” Grayson announced after only 10 minutes of work. “We should do something else.” 

“Your martial art skills are abominable,” Damian grumbled, but dropped his guard stance. “However, perhaps you could benefit from a physical break. We can work on your language skills. By the time I was your age, I could already speak four. Spanish is-”

“Ew, no, I don’t want to study,” Grayson interrupted. “It’s summer! I was just thinking a core strength workout instead of fighting. Come on, the trapeze always helps me focus. Let me be in charge for once, I can show you some moves.” 

Something in Damian recoiled so hard it must have shown on his face, but Young Grayson was already walking away from him and didn’t see it. He followed the younger boy hesitantly, with faltering steps, and wondered if there was a way to voice that only Grayson had ever used the trapeze to workout. No one had touched it since, and it sat as one of many shrines to the fallen. 

There wasn’t a way to say that without being caught in a lie, so Damian just watched as Younger Grayson jumped up onto the trapeze and started a warm-up routine. He wasn’t surprised to find that he knew it by heart - Grayson hadn’t changed his habits since he was a boy, apparently. Damian was willing to bet the “core strength” workout would be the exact same too, a routine designed to test the dexterity of one’s inner ear just as much as the abdominal and lower back muscles.  

“Come on, Damian,” small Grayson insisted, hanging upside-down from one side of the bar. “There’s room!” 

“I don’t want to,” Damian snapped. “I don’t need any of your dumb circus tricks, Grayson. You can do whatever you want.  _ I’m  _ going to go study.” He turned on his heel and started marching towards the exit. Spending this much time with the ten-year-old had been a mistake. 

“Damian, wait!” young Grayson called after him, and Damian could hear the footsteps thudding on the mat as Grayson hit the floor. “What’s wrong with you? You’ve barely looked at me all day, and you’re the one supposed to be the watching me!” 

“Do you _ really _ need a babysitter?” Damian sneered. “I knew you were young when you started as Robin, but if you acted this pathetic the whole time I have no idea how you managed to get the job at all.” 

The other boy caught up to him, grabbing Damian by the arm. “I got the job by taking down my parent’s murderer,” Grayson shot back, glaring. “What’s going on with you?” 

“Unhand me,” Damian snapped, yanking his arm away. “Nothing’s going on with me, you imbecile.”

“I thought you were my friend!” Grayson shouted. “You were so  _ nice!  _ You bought me my favorite ice cream and gave me kittens and showed me movies! What happened?”

“Clearly I was just acting because I thought you’d be gone by now!” Damian yelled back. “What right do you have to still be here when you’re just going to leave! _Again!”_

“Seven seconds!” Grayson shrieked, and then tackled him. 

It was a good thing they were still on the training mats of the gym, because they went down  _ hard.  _ It took Damian a moment to recognize what Grayson had said and realize he was trying to manhandle them both into a hug. 

“You’re an idiot,” he told Grayson, acquiescing enough to let the other boy throw his arms around his shoulders. 

“You’re the idiot,” Grayson retorted. “You’re allowed to be sad without being mean, you know. Man, you are just like Bruce.” 

“Seven seconds are up,” Damian said. 

“You said I get two a week,” Grayson said. “Well, I want to use both of mine, and both of yours, so get ready for the twenty-eight second hug of your life, buddy.” 

“I don’t think I’m that much like my father,” Damian said. “If he gets sad he just avoids me. Avoids everyone, really. For the Batman he’s surprisingly non-confrontational.”

“I’ll talk to him for you,” Grayson promised. 

“No,” Damian said sharply, and attempted to push Grayson off. “Don’t do that, I’m not a child anymore, I - I’m the older one, now. I should be talking to him for you.”

“Has he figured out a way to send me back?” Grayson asked. “Is that why you’re upset with me?”

Damian hesitated, turning his head as far to the side as he could so his one cheek rested against the floor and he didn’t have to look at Grayson. “Not yet,” Damian admitted. “But I think he’s close.” 

“I’ll miss you too,” young Grayson said. 

Damian ignored that statement completely. “This isn’t even a hug anymore,” he grumbled instead. “Now we’re just lying here.” 

“We were having a moment,” Grayson said, exasperated, but he smiled fondly at Damian as he rolled off.

 

* * *

 

Damian had a hard time sleeping that night, only managing to fall asleep for a few hours. He woke up at four in the morning, frustrated, and went down to the kitchen to fix himself a snack.  

To his surprise, Alfred was already in the kitchen, who looked mildly surprised to see him as well. “Master Damian,” Alfred said pleasantly, eyebrows raised. “What are you doing down here at this hour?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” Damian said, crossing his arms. “I wasn’t aware that you were working an early shift today, Pennyworth. Is there a breakfast feast I wasn’t told about?”

“Sarcasm doesn’t become you, young master,” Alfred replied smoothly. He ignored Damian’s tutting and continued, “Master Bruce is entertaining a special sort of guest this morning.”

That was code for there was someone in the Batcave. “A good sort or bad sort?” Damian asked, leaning against the door frame. He internally debated whether a snack was still worth it, if it cost having to make small talk to Alfred the whole time. 

Alfred gave Damian an appraising look. 

“What?” Damian asked. 

“It’s a very good sort of guest,” Alfred told him. “Master Bruce wanted his arrival to be a surprise, but I believe it may be prudent for you to go see the visitor now.”

Damian looked down at his pajamas.  He had a domino mask and some weapons hidden up in his room, but not the rest of his Robin costume. “Father would not approve of meeting prestigious guests in my sleep-clothes.”

“This is an exception,” Alfred promised, and then shooed him away towards the secret entrance to the Batcave. “Off you go. Time is of the essence.”

“That’s a stupid expression,” Damian mumbled, but he walked off to the clock and entered the cave as quietly as possible. 

As he descended the stairs he caught sight of his father, in Batman regalia except with the cowl down, talking to a man dressed casually in jeans and a hoodie. The man’s back was facing him, but Damian froze at the outline of him anyways; he was almost like…

Father saw him first, his eyes flicking up and face carefully expressionless as he monitored his son’s gaping. “Damian,” Father acknowledged. 

The man he was talking to stiffened, whipping his head around to follow Bruce’s gaze. “Damian?” he echoed, bewildered. 

“Grayson,” Damian breathed. 

“You’re alive?!” Grayson shouted, tall and deep-voiced and beautifully fully grown. 

“You’re alive!” Damian yelled back, and suddenly his body came to life again under him. He took the next six stairs at a run before deciding there were way too many of them and just vaulted over the railing, adding a flip to control the trajectory of his fifteen-foot free fall into Grayson’s waiting arms. 

Grayson easily caught and crushed him to his body as if Damian were still ten years old and easily liftable with one arm. “Oh my god, Damian,” Grayson said, sounding choked up already, the great sap. 

“Richard,” Damian said softly. His heart felt like it was glowing. “Where the hell have you been?” 

Grayson let out a small huff of breath against Damian’s hairline. “I was on a really deep cover mission. When the hell did you come back?”

“Months ago,” Damian answered, starting to pull away. “You didn’t know?”

Grayson let Damian drop a little so he was standing on his tiptoes, but then pulled him back in for another hug. “Of course I didn’t know, I would have come running,” Grayson answered. 

“Father,” Damian snarled, but Grayson squeezed him again. 

“Shush, we can fight later,” he said. “Let me revel in my hug. You missed me!” 

“Please,” Damian scoffed, words clearly belied by his death grip on his former mentor. “I tried to replace you with a younger model.” 

“That I heard about,” Grayson answered. “That’s why I’m here, actually. They need me to send him home.”  

Damian froze.  _ Oh.  _

He squeezed Grayson one last time, and then pushed him away. “It was good to see you, Richard,” he said diplomatically. “Father, we will be having words later.”

“Damian, wait-” Grayson started. 

But he’d already turned on his heel and rushed back up to the manor before his father could respond. 

 

* * *

 

Damian burst into Grayson’s room - Grayson’s old room - wait, actually, it was still Grayson’s room, he wasn’t dead _(he wasn't dead!)_  and there was a small little Grayson jerking awake in the bed anyways. 

“Damian?” the little ten-year-old questioned, sitting upright. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Damian answered. “Nothing’s wrong.” He sat down on the end of Grayson’s bed, criss-crossing his legs and leaning his elbows on his knees. “I’ve just had a little surprise, so I’m excited, that’s all. Do you want to go back to sleep?” 

“Nah, you can stay,” young Grayson said, and then yawned. “What’s up?”

Damian considered the situation, and then answered, “I’m having an argument with Father.”

Small Grayson rolled his eyes. “Oh my god, this again?”

“What do you mean, again?” Damian cried, outraged. 

Small Grayson held up his hands in little claws. “I’m Batman, and I never smile,” he mimed with one hand. “I’m Robin, and I never smile either! We avoid each other and overdramatize everything so we don’t accidentally make each other smile.”

“Is that supposed to be my voice?” Damian asked. “That’s terrible. Why did you make me British?”

Small Grayson held up his one hand directly to Damian’s face. “Why did you make me British?” Grayson pantomimed. 

Damian waved the hand out of his face. “You want to go home, right?” he asked instead. “You don’t want to stay? You don’t have to go anywhere you don’t want to.”

Grayson removed the blanket and criss-crossed his legs so he was mirroring Damian. “I want to go home,” he confirmed. “But...I mean, I’ll miss you and all-”

“Don’t worry about me,” Damian interrupted. “I’ll be fine. I’ve got the older you, after all. I just wanted to make sure. It's my job to protect you.” 

Grayson smiled, and yawned again. “Thank you,” he said. “Even if it is at a stupidly early hour.” 

“Consider it more training,” Damian said. “Two-Face could be attacking the city right now.”

Small Grayson squinted at him in the darkness. “You want to train now?”

“No!” Damian said sharply, thinking of the mess that awaited them down in the Batcave. “No, I just...” He knew what he wanted, but he couldn’t dare say it out loud. He didn’t have a right to this Grayson, this wasn't  _ his  _ Grayson. He shouldn’t be in here.

“Then let’s go back to sleep,” small Grayson said. “Come on, you can stay here. The bed’s giant.” 

“I’m not tired.”

“Just lay down,” Grayson ordered, flopping back down himself. 

Damian carefully crawled to the other side of the bed, lying down on his side so he could study Grayson’s profile. His hair was a mess - that’s probably why he gelled it so carefully as Robin. 

“I’ll keep a lookout for you in the past,” Grayson said suddenly, still looking at the ceiling. “You’ll be born in a few more years, and then I can teach you everything that you taught me, so that you also will be teaching yourself.”

Damian gave him a little half-smile. “No time paradoxes before breakfast,” he said quietly. It struck him that they had an inside joke now, and it was the last time he was going to say it. 

“Sure, no time paradoxes before breakfast,” small Grayson agreed, turning towards him. Then he winked. 

 

* * *

 

The ten-year-old Robin disappeared as anti-climatically as he appeared. 

“Goodbye, Alfred,” young Grayson said. “See you relatively soon.” He was dressed back in his original Robin uniform, with the colors so bright Damian thought they might blind his eyes.

“Of course, Master Dick,” Alfred said gently, accepting the brief hug. 

Small Grayson walked over to Father next. “It’s good to see you haven’t lost your edge after all these years, old man. Except for the Poison Ivy thing.”

Father frowned. “What Poison Ivy thing?”

“There was no Poison Ivy thing,” Damian stated, glaring at small Grayson. “He’s just being tiny and paranoid. Pennyworth was there, he’ll back me up.” 

“Sure there wasn’t,” Grayson said, looking straight at Damian.

Damian couldn’t be sure, but under the domino mask he thought Grayson was winking again. “Stop that, there wasn’t.” 

“There wasn’t,” little Grayson replied, straight-faced.

“There wasn’t!”  

“I agree, there wasn’t!”

“Boys,” Father called, sounding exasperated. “What did I tell you about the antagonism?” 

“Don’t do it in the house,” Damian muttered crossly. Small Grayson laughed, and when Damian looked over to the corner he caught a smile on adult Grayson’s lips as well. 

“Anyways, Bruce,” small Grayson said cheerfully, “I’ll being seeing you again really soon, too, I expect.” 

“It was my pleasure, Dick,” Father said. “As always.” 

Small Grayson turned to Damian at last. “You were a really good babysitter,” he said, a clearly teasing smile on his face. “I think you could have a bright future as a nanny.” 

“Your martial arts skills aren’t the worst in the world, I suppose,” Damian said back airily. “Still terrible, but you have some potential, at least.”

“How many seconds do I have left?” Grayson asked. “I require - what was it? Emotional upkeep?”

Damian blinked. “You require comforting,” he corrected. 

“Yeah, I require comforting,” small Grayson agreed. “Can I have another seven?”

“Fine, but I’m counting,” Damian warned, and then pulled Grayson in for another hug.

This wasn’t quite his record-high number of hugs per week (that honor went to adult Grayson’s last week as Batman), but it was getting up there. This was also the last time he would ever hug a Grayson this small, so Damian was careful to count very slowly. 

“Take care of yourself,” he whispered to the smaller boy. "At least put on some pants."

Dick let out a puff of laughter. “I can’t wait for you to be born, little Robin,” he said into his ear, and then pulled away.     

Little Grayson padded over to his adult self last. Grown Grayson was still dressed warmly for the season, but he uncrossed his arms and held his hand out invitingly. 

Small Grayson stopped a pace away, looking unsure. “Just a touch?” he asked. 

“So they say,” grown Grayson answered lightly. 

Small Grayson studied him intensely for a few more seconds. “You look like Mom,” he said suddenly, and slammed his bare wrist into his older self’s waiting hand. 

Just as suddenly as he appeared, he was gone. 

Older Grayson - the only Grayson now, finally - seemed surprised. He looked over at Father, eyebrows raised. “I always did have to have the last word,” he commented. 

“You’re very consistent that way,” Father agreed. Grayson laughed. 

“Well, at least you’re home now,” Damian said, crossing his arms. He shot a dirty look at his Father. “Alive and well.” 

Father heaved a long sigh. “Damian-”

“I volunteered for this, Little D,” Grayson interrupted. “Being legally dead was the best cover. I’m sorry you had to find out like this, but if you could keep doing the mourning thing publicly for just a little while longer-”

“Wait,” Damian said. “Why would I need to do it longer? You’re not going back, you only just came home.”

Grayson and Father exchanged a look over Damian’s head. 

“You have to stay,” Damian demanded, voice rising. “You have to! As the only one here who’s actually been dead, I demand it!” 

“There are some complicated-” Grayson started, cutting himself off as Damian started running off towards the Batcave. “Damian!” 

“No!” Damian shouted, and slammed the clock shut behind him.

 

* * *

 

Damian was pulling down the last Nightwing uniform off its display when he heard Grayson’s steps from behind him. 

“Are you hiding all my uniforms?” Grayson asked, sounding way too amused. “I’m not undercover as Nightwing, you know.” 

“Shut up,” Damian snarled. “You’re not undercover as anyone if I have anything to say about it.” 

“Look, Damian, I know you’re mad,” Grayson started. “But first things first, you’ve got to know I’m so glad you’re okay, and I’m so proud of you. Bruce said you’ve been doing really well, and even getting along with Tim-” he cut himself off as the sounds of an engine filled the cave. “What’s that?” 

“Speak of the devil,” Damian muttered.   

Red Robin drove his motorbike off the vehicle path and straight into the the main part of the Batcave, coming to a screeching halt and immediately jumping off into battle position, bo staff at the ready. “Robin!” he shouted. “Where’s Batman?! Who’s attacking?!”

“Over here, Drake, no one’s attacking,” Damian called scathingly. 

Drake’s head snapped over to Damian’s location, where Damian still had an arm full of the Nightwing suit. “Are you kidding me, Hell Spawn?” Drake questioned, tugging his ridiculous cowl down and running a hand through his hair. “You can’t send out a distress call on the emergency channel unless you’re directly in danger. We’ve talked about this!”

“It is an emergency,” Damian said. 

“This is the cat thing all over again,” Drake accused. 

“Those kittens needed a home!” Damian shouted back, as Grayson said behind him, “what cat thing?” 

Drake’s attention snapped to Grayson. “Dick,” he said, sounding only mildly surprised. 

“Hey, Timmy,” Grayson said, ambling over. 

“You see, Drake?” Damian continued, gesturing in Grayson’s current direction as best he could with his arms full. 

“Still not emergency-channel worthy,” Drake snapped, holding up a hand to stop Grayson before he could get too close. “So, fake death, huh?”

Grayson winced. “Yeah, I’m sorry.” 

Drake sighed. “I mean, I suspected. Bruce was acting weird.”

“WHAT?” Damian screeched.   

“Your funeral still sucked though,” Drake continued. “Jason’s going to kick your ass.” 

Damian dropped the Nightwing suit on the floor and hurried over to his two predecessors. “You knew?!”

“Suspected,” Drake repeated. “I didn’t know anything for sure. Anyways, Dick, it’s good to have you back. If you could control your Demon Spawn from now on so he doesn’t call at an ungodly hour of the morning-” 

“It’s nine o’clock,” Damian interrupted petulantly. 

“-that would be lovely,” Drake finished. 

“Save your breath, Drake,” Damian snapped, glowering over in Grayson’s direction. “He’s leaving again anyways. He was just here for the time-traveler.” 

Drake frowned. “Dick, you’re not leaving again.”

“Actually, Tim, I-”

“You can’t,” Drake continued, voice rising. “With you gone, do you know who the most emotionally stable person in the house was?  _ Me,  _ Dick. Me. And that’s saying something.”  

“House is a relative term, but Drake is essentially correct,” Damian concurred. “He could turn insane at any moment. Now that you are aware I am alive, it would be fundamentally irresponsible to abandon me again.”

“That last part’s true,” Drake said. “I mean, I have no illusions about my own importance, but you’ve always liked Damian. You should have seen him. He was sobbing all over the place.”

“I was not!” Damian shouted. 

“Guys,” Grayson said gently. 

“And as the emotionally stable one, it was  _ my  _ job to deal with him-” 

“I was  _ not  _ sobbing, Grayson! He’s lying!”

“And he almost fought Batman in the Watchtower for the rights little you, so it was not a non-violent phase-”

“You haven’t even  _ begun  _ to see me fight!” 

“Guys!” Grayson yelled. “Is two weeks okay?”

Drake froze. Damian, hands still clenched into fists at his sides, looked from him back to Grayson. “You’ll be back in two weeks?” Damian asked uncertainly. 

Grayson smiled at the both of them. “Yeah,” he said easily. “Just to wrap some stuff up, ok?”

“Oh,” Drake said. “Two weeks.” He looked down at Damian. “That should be ok, right?”

“I don’t know,” Damian said sarcastically. “I’ll have to ask my emotional handler.” 

“Oh my god,” Drake said, pinching his nose. “Is 30 seconds of pleasantness too much to ask from you?” 

“I have a maximum limit of 7,” Damian retorted.   

“I missed you guys,” Grayson interjected cheerfully, reaching forward and putting an arm around both of their shoulders. “I love you two so much. Equally just as much, Tim, don’t go pulling that mopey stuff on me.” 

“As a Bat, I reserve the right to hold a grudge forever,” Drake grunted. 

“Seconded,” Damian added. “If you make us hug, I’m make you wish you really had died.”

“So much,” Grayson repeated, and pulled them in for a group hug. 

 

* * *

 

“When you were younger you were scared of me,” Damian informed Grayson, weeks later. They had been doing laps in the pool but now they were both just floating there, with Grayson occasionally trying to splash him. 

“I was, was I?” Grayson asked lazily. He sounded amused. 

“Yes,” Damian informed him. “You told me so several times.” 

“I don’t know,” Grayson said. “Alfred told me that you two were as thick as thieves the whole time.”

“You talked less. It was refreshing,” Damian said. 

Grayson laughed. 

“And when you did speak, your circus stories were much more detailed,” Damian continued, carefully this time. 

“Yeah, I guess it was fresh back then,” Grayson mused. “What, are my circus stories not vivid enough for you now? I can practice.”

“I already know all your circus stories, Grayson.” 

“Impossible,” Grayson countered. “You can take the boy out of the circus, but you can’t take the circus out of the boy. All my stories are circus stories.” 

“Are you happy now?” Damian asked. 

He heard some splashing noises as Grayson presumably abandoned his back float and started treading water next to him. Damian ignored it, and continued staring at the sky. “Of course I’m happy now, Damian,” Grayson answered incredulously. “I have everything I need. I have  _ you,  _ alive and well.”

“You were orphaned too young,” Damian said to the sky. 

“Bruce told me about what you said about me up at the Watchtower,” Grayson said next to him. “I’m honored you think of me that way, Dami.” 

“Tt,” Damian responded. “Drake told me you were crazy and reckless after I died, and that’s the only thing that made your death story remotely believable. I am not honored.” 

“I missed you a lot,” Grayson answered softly. “I needed another seven seconds.”

Damian looked over sharply. “Grayson,” he said. One of his ears was underwater now and the sound was distorted. “To what are you referring?” 

For once, Grayson didn’t answer. 

Damian jerked himself into a vertical position too, grabbing Grayson’s arm so he wouldn’t have to tread water himself. “Grayson,” Damian repeated. “Father said that time-travelers usually make changes when they go home, and that then creates alternate timelines, so it doesn’t really affect us here in the original because it never happened. But...you - I was just...” 

Grayson looked at him. “Wondering something, Little D?” 

“Do you remember it happening?” Damian blurted out. “I know you told Father you didn’t. But. Sometimes…?” he trailed off, not really sure what would happen if Grayson admitted to remembering all the embraces and ice cream and late-night sleepovers.   

“I don’t remember anything, Damian,” Grayson told him solemnly. 

  
And then he winked. 


End file.
